


the crown of lies

by ATMachine (orphan_account)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Incest, Sibling Incest, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 15:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12914775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ATMachine
Summary: Shame was burned out of Leia by the fires of Condawn.A Star Wars 1975 fanfic.Now in triplicate.





	1. Chapter 1

FYTTE THE FIRST

 

The carpet leading to the throne is soft and plush beneath her bare feet. She doesn’t wear shoes anymore; not since Luke’s lightsaber blinded her in that last, desperate duel on Condawn.

The air in the throne room is cool and temperate, but her flesh still burns with the memory of the lava she plunged into, saving Luke from the wrath of Darth Vader. Thus her attire: a loincloth of crimson silk, and a jeweled necklace.

The crown upon her head is a headdress of Antavian blue gems, woven to resemble hair. Her own golden tresses were burnt off by the lava, and the crown shades her baldness from the harsh sun of Utapau.

She reaches out with the Force, walks up the steps of the high dais to the crystal throne. Luke tells her that her eyes are the color of the throne now, pale blue and milky without pupils. Blindness was the price she paid for letting Vader turn her, after her capture on Alderaan retrieving the shield passcodes for the second and third Death Stars.

Han Solo and Chewbacca died destroying those Death Stars; the _Millennium Falcon_ is now just a memory. Lando Calrissian captured the Emperor Sate Pestage, the military genius turned caudillo, who took poison rather than live in the new world of liberty; and Darth Vader died by her hand, his life-support suit melted by the fiery lava beneath his iron palace.

Her homeworld of Organa Major is gone, but the refugee colony she has set up here is thriving. The climate of Utapau – Sullust to the galaxy at large – is forbidding, but it’s far enough away from the galactic center that the Organian exiles feel safe here.

Besides, it’s Luke’s homeworld. The place where the man she loves grew up. And the place where he’s established his new Jedi training academy.

She reaches the top of the dais, walks to the throne and sits in it. From a side door, Luke emerges. “What’s on the agenda for today?” she asks him.

“First a meeting with a delegation of Wookiees from Kashyyyk, then an envoy from the Bestinians. Remember tomorrow is when Lando arrives for his state visit.”

“Ah yes, Chancellor Lando Calrissian. Leader of the Restored Republic. That title never gets old. I wish I could see the capes you tell me he wears.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to.” They both laugh.

He draws nearer to her. She stands up from the throne, throws her arms around her, and kisses him. The wool fabric of his robe feels rough on her bare breasts, as the hairs of his newly grown beard tickle her chin.

This is the man she loves. Luke Skywalker. Her husband.

And – this is the secret only the two of them share – her brother.


	2. Chapter 2

FYTTE THE SECOND

 

The carpet leading to the throne is soft and plush beneath her bare feet. She doesn’t wear shoes anymore; not since Luke blinded her in that last, desperate duel on Condawn.

The air in the throne room is cool and temperate, but her flesh still burns with the memory of the lava she plunged into, saving Luke from the wrath of Darth Vader. Thus her attire: a loincloth of cloth-of-gold, and a jeweled necklace.

The crown upon her head is a headdress of Eirintor gold, woven to resemble hair. Her own dark tresses were burnt off by the lava, and the crown shades her baldness from the harsh sun of Utapau. The golden headdress sits strangely next to the livid purple mark on her forehead, the triskelion of the Sith, burned in via dark side magic by Vader himself.

She reaches out with the Force, walks up the steps of the high dais to the crystal throne. She knows the composition of the minerals that make up the throne, can sense the microscopic alignment of the crystalline structure; but her empty eye sockets, burned out by the sparking ends of a power cable, do not see its intricate colors. Blindness was the price she paid for letting Vader turn her, after her capture on Alderaan retrieving the shield passcodes for the second and third Death Stars.

Han Solo and Chewbacca nearly died destroying those Death Stars; the _Millennium Falcon_ was destroyed, and only the late lamented ship’s lifepods saved them from a fiery doom. Lando Calrissian captured the Emperor Sate Pestage, the military genius turned caudillo, who took poison rather than live in the new world of liberty; and Darth Vader died by her hand, his life-support suit melted by the lava beneath his iron palace.

Her homeworld of Organa Major is gone, but the refugee colony she has set up here is thriving. The climate of Utapau – Sullust to the galaxy at large – is forbidding, but it’s far enough away from the galactic center that Han’s small fleet can defend the planet effectively, so the Organian exiles feel safe here.

Besides, it’s Luke’s homeworld. The place where the man she loves grew up. And the place where he’s established his new Jedi training academy.

She reaches the top of the dais, walks to the throne and sits in it. From a side door, Luke emerges. “What’s on the agenda for today?” she asks him.

“First a meeting with a delegation of Suleinarians, then an envoy from Bestine. Remember tomorrow is when Lando arrives for his state visit.”

“Ah yes, Chancellor Lando Calrissian. Leader of the Restored Republic. That title never gets old. I wish I could see the capes you tell me he wears.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to.” They both laugh.

“And then of course Han will be back. I always get a bit agitated having my General-in-Chief away. Even for a few days.”

“We both do.” She returns the smile she can sense is on his face.

He draws nearer to her. She stands up from the throne, throws her arms around her, and kisses him. The wool fabric of his robe feels rough on her bare breasts, as the hairs of his newly grown beard tickle her chin.

This is the man she loves. Luke Skywalker. Her husband.

And – this is the secret only the two of them share – her brother.


	3. Chapter 3

FYTTE THE THIRD

 

The carpet leading to the throne is soft and plush beneath her bare white feet. She doesn’t wear shoes anymore; not since Luke blinded her in that last, desperate duel on Condawn.

The air in the throne room is cool and temperate, but her flesh still burns with the memory of the lava she plunged into, saving Luke from the wrath of Darth Vader. Thus her attire: a loincloth of sheer translucent silk, and a jeweled necklace.

The crown upon her head is a headdress of Eirintor gold, woven in a net of linked disks. Her own red tresses were burnt off by the lava, and the crown shades her baldness from the harsh sun of Utapau. The golden headdress sits strangely next to her salt-white skin, the legacy of the healing technique with which Luke saved her life after her immersion in Condawn’s fires.

She reaches out with the Force, walks up the steps of the high dais to the crystal throne. She knows the composition of the minerals that make up the throne, can sense the microscopic alignment of the crystalline structure; but her blank milky eyes, blinded by the golden blade of Luke’s lightsaber, do not see its intricate colors. Blindness was the price she paid for letting Vader turn her, after her capture on Alderaan retrieving the shield passcodes for the second and third Death Stars.

Han Solo and Chewbacca nearly died destroying those Death Stars; the _Millennium Falcon_ was destroyed, and only the late lamented ship’s lifepods saved them from a fiery doom. Lando Calrissian captured the Emperor Sate Pestage, the military genius turned caudillo, who took poison rather than live in the new world of liberty; and Darth Vader, who personally branded the Sith triskelion on her forehead, died by her hand, his life-support suit melted by the lava beneath his iron palace.

Her homeworld of Organa Major is gone, but the refugee colony she has set up here is thriving. The climate of Utapau – Sullust to the galaxy at large – is forbidding, but it’s far enough away from the galactic center that Han’s small fleet can defend the planet effectively, so the Organian exiles feel safe here.

Besides, it’s Luke’s homeworld. The place where a man she loves grew up. And the place where he’s established his new Jedi training academy.

She reaches the top of the dais, walks to the throne and sits in it. From a side door, Luke emerges. “What’s on the agenda for today?” she asks him.

“First a meeting with a delegation of Suleinarians, then an envoy from Bestine. Remember tomorrow is when Lando arrives for his state visit.”

“Ah yes, Chancellor Lando Calrissian. Leader of the Restored Republic. That title never gets old. I wish I could see the capes you tell me he wears.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to.” They both laugh.

“And then of course Han will be back. I always get a bit agitated having my General-in-Chief away. Even for a few days.”

“We both do.” She returns the smile she can sense is on his face, and understands the deeper meaning behind it.

He draws nearer to her. She stands up from the throne, throws her arms around her, and kisses him. The wool fabric of his robe feels rough on her bare breasts, as the hairs of his newly grown beard tickle her chin.

She loves this man. Luke Skywalker. Her husband.

And – this is the secret only the two of them share, the secret they don’t dare tell even Han – her brother.

 


End file.
